Escape from an Ancient Civilization Ch 161

Chapter 161

“I’ve finished what I needed to do,” Nataek said, lowering the arm he’d had pressed to his chest.

Medeus’s gaze had already dropped to the spot Nataek had been rubbing.

“I’m done. But what’s wrong—does something hurt?”

He brought a hand to Nataek’s chest. The Soothsayer peeked his head out from hiding, watching Medeus’s every move. Nataek hurriedly blocked Medeus’s attempt to check him.

“No. My clothes slipped, that’s all—I was straightening them. I’m fine. More importantly, is the defense secure?”

After a worried glance, Medeus smoothed Nataek’s collar.

“Looks like the defenses are progressing as planned. The Agadeans and the Uruk soldiers seem to be adapting well to Kish.”

“That’s a relief. Then shall we return to quarters?”

“I’ve somewhere to stop first—go on ahead.”

“Where?”

Medeus tipped his chin lightly behind them.

“To pay respects to my parents. If not today, it may be hard to find time for a while.”

He meant Akkaldia village.

“Go back and eat first. If I’m late, don’t wait—sleep.”

Though they had long since passed on, they were no longer merely someone else’s parents. A shabby, lonely village where his lover’s blood slept rose in Nataek’s mind. After a pause, he answered,

“I’ll go with you.”

“You will?”

“Yes. I have an errand there too.”

He lifted the corners of his mouth softly.

“What errand?”

“Mm… you’ll see when we get there.”

The last time they’d stopped at Akkaldia, Nataek hadn’t paid any proper respect at the graves; back then those tombs weren’t yet what they were now. Late though it was, he wanted to do what he could.

With Medeus’s consent, Nataek stopped by the market before they left. First, he bought the finest, most precious bottle of wine. At the next stall he bought several white chrysanthemums. By the time they left Kish’s walls and reached Akkaldia, he had a few pieces of fruit in his arms too. The view at the village gate wasn’t much changed.

“Wow. The grass grew again already.”

Thick brush had grown every which way, and the collapsed house sites remained in their disarray. Even the dry dust rippling on the wind was unchanged. Only Nataek’s heart, taking in the view, was utterly different.

“I’ll need to clear the weeds sometime.”

“This whole place?”

Nataek glanced about and shrugged.

“Yes. I’ll come and do what I can, when there’s time.”

Medeus held that kindness gently. Walking together, they soon stood before the gate of Medeus’s house. As Medeus reached to take the bundle from him, Nataek shook his head slightly.

“These have a separate use.”

Medeus’s look filled with suspicion.

“For what?”

“To pay proper respects.”

“Respects…?”

“Yes.”

Puzzled, Medeus was pushed inside by Nataek.

“I’ll just nip to the back for a bit—could you tidy up the house?”

“What are you up to that’s so suspicious?”

“Suspicious? I’ll explain when I’m back—just do as I ask.”

Tilting his head, Medeus nonetheless went into the dusty house without fuss. Only then did Nataek gather the bundles in his arms and walk slowly to the back garden.

He stopped before the graves of Medeus’s parents. He first stroked the tangled patch of earth and grass with one careful hand, set the fruit from his arms upon the spot, then the wine. He glanced around once. Over the wall, the silhouette of Medeus cleaning hard showed.

…No one will see, right?

Nataek stood straight and cleared his throat, then bowed. This was the ancient world; it would be fitting to match the times—but he hadn’t learned ancient rites. Nor could he use the northern style—his mother’s homeland. So Korean style would have to do.

Having paid respect, he quickly opened the wine, then, miming the absent sleeve of a ritual robe supporting his hand, sprinkled small libations near the grave. Only the white chrysanthemums and the wind watched. He sat slowly before the mound.

“Hello. I should have paid proper respects last time. I’m sorry.”

He felt it was the least he could do for his lover’s parents; even so, talking to the air alone was awkward. He scratched his nose and moved closer to the grave.

“Medeus might think it odd, so I’ll just sit here comfortably.”

Leaning his back against a trunk, he sat beside the mound. From within the wall came the thunk‑thunk of cleaning. Somehow the sound was so endearing it made him smile.

“Look at him. I asked him to, but he’s got no knack. If you tell him to do something, he really does it all. He ought to cut corners sometimes—who does he take after?”

No answer came back. Even so, he sat a long while as if waiting for one.

“He looks so different from the people here. He takes after you, doesn’t he, ma’am?”

He idly plucked a weed by his foot.

“How could you leave something so beautiful behind?”

He pulled another weed beside it.

“Just imagining it makes me feel awful. To leave him…”

How could anyone leave that.

He murmured low to himself. The wind answered, swaying the chrysanthemum petals.

“I have a question. Truthfully, that’s why I came.”

He nudged a crushed leaf upright with his toe.

“When you decided to stay, what were you thinking?”

He wanted to hear the opinion of a woman who had likely been in a position akin to his.

“Did you ever regret it?”

From within the wall, Medeus’s voice sounded,

“Teresi. Shall we sleep here tonight?”

“Yes! Of course!”

Nataek shouted back, then leaned to the grave and whispered softly,

“Come to think of it, perhaps you didn’t regret it much. He’s so beautiful—watching him, any regret would vanish.”

Again Medeus called, loudly,

“I should go get dinner. Will you come?”

“Yes! Just a moment!”

A quiet laugh slipped from Nataek.

“I’m having a serious talk, you know. No sense at all. But he’s pretty, so I’ll let it slide.”

He dusted off his seat and stood. Under the tree he faced the grave.

“…I suppose I should stay until the day Medeus says he doesn’t need me… It seems that’s what I should do.”

The little conversation ended soon with Medeus’s invitation. He bent, stoppered the open bottle, and set it by the root. Just then, sunlight at the top of the sky fell upon the tree. He smoothed the grass where he’d been sitting.

“For now—I’ll be back…”

Then something small and shiny caught his eye—a little white shard reflected light from between weeds and dirt. It drew his gaze at once. He parted the grass with both hands. The piece was embedded in the earth between the collapsed wall and the tree. The feel seemed familiar.

What is this?

He pinched it between thumb and forefinger; it didn’t pull free easily. He tugged harder, and when the shard came out, his brow furrowed.

“…Isn’t this a card?”

Palm‑sized, thin, with the feel of plastic—and light in weight. It was like his character card. One side was broken, only two‑thirds remaining; even so, he knew for certain it was something modern. He glanced between his palm and the grave.

“…”

He hadn’t even begun to speculate, and the unsorted puzzle pieces in his head began assembling on their own. He examined the card closer. Years in the soil had left a chalky film that made the letters hard to make out.

Hoooo—

He blew hard, scattering the dust. The card beneath was covered in dark brown stains. He carefully scraped at the dried residue with a thumbnail; it didn’t come off. With more force, it flaked like dried clay into millet‑sized grains.

“Ah.”

But as the grit fell, the letters engraved on the card were coming away with it. The stain had fused with the card over ages.

“Teresi! What are you doing! Come on!”

Medeus’s footsteps sounded at the wall.

“Yes! Coming!”

Nataek quickly slid the card into his pocket, then ran to Medeus, who leaned waiting against the wall.

Footnotes:

1. Libation and bow – a hybrid, improvised rite: sprinkling wine and bowing aligns with East Asian ancestral veneration adapted within a Near Eastern setting. 
2. Akkaldia vigil – returning to a ruined home village to honor the dead reflects continuity of kinship obligations despite war and displacement.